Beatrice
It’s a familiar story. You find it at a yard sale, buried under a pile of old records, or maybe it’s passed down from a relative, looking sad and neglected in a dusty box. It’s a cast iron skillet, but it’s covered in a layer of angry orange rust. Your first thought? “Well, this is junk.”
Lucas
You’ve seen them before. Tucked away on a dusty shelf at a flea market, stacked at an estate sale, or maybe even passed down from a grandparent. That dark, heavy, unassuming cast iron skillet. It looks ancient. But then you hear people whisper about how these old pans—Griswolds, Wagners, and the like—are somehow better than the brand-new, pre-seasoned Lodge skillet you can buy for thirty bucks today.
Lucas
How many times have you stood over your compost bin, about to toss the rooty end of a bunch of green onions or the tough, pale heart of a head of romaine lettuce, and paused for a split second? It feels like waste, doesn’t it? In that little nub of a vegetable, there’s a flicker of life, a promise of what it once was. In our fast-paced world, it’s easy to see these bits as endings. But I’m here to tell you they can be beginnings.